


The Stillness Gave No Token

by LizzyPhoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyPhoenix/pseuds/LizzyPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prior to a cold Halloween night in 1981 there was only one documented case of a Horcrux being stored in a human vessel. In that case the horcrux was bound to the woman's soul leaving her devoted to it's creator but also utterly mad. Of course Marvolo isn't worried about that happening to them. . . Harry/Voldemort Warnings for torture, violence and sexy times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

When Harry was little he had an imaginary friend called Marvolo. Only Harry couldn’t quite say that so he just called him Volo. Marvolo didn’t much like that but that wasn’t Harry’s biggest problem. Harry’s biggest problem was the Dursley's. The Dursley’s didn’t like it when Marvolo came to play because unbeknownst to Harry, any time he was talking to Marvolo his eyes turned red. Things got much worse for Harry whenever the Dursleys caught him talking to Marvolo. Eventually Marvolo told Harry it was safer if he went away. 

Marvolo wrapped himself up tight, restraining both his magic and the child’s. As a fragment Marvolo only had small bits of memory from before but he knew how dangerous muggles could be. Marvolo buried himself so deeply Harry forgot all about him but Marvolo didn’t forget about Harry. Marvolo stayed awake, Marvolo watched and felt and lived as Harry lived. For him Harry was more real than what came before, those strange fragmented memories mattered less. Instead Marvolo clung to those emotions he understood best, and he bathed himself in Harry’s hate, his anger. 

As time past things happened, things that reminded Marvolo of what had come before. Marvolo remembered how he had come to be tied to Harry but he understood the boy could not be killed now. He had tried to contact his living counterpart but Voldemort had overpowered him, ignored what Marvolo felt were obvious signs of their true connection. After Marvolo heard the prophecy he understood they had been tricked but he refused to risk opening up the link again. Harry was too fragile after the loss of his godfather and Marvolo didn’t want Harry to do anything rash. 

Not yet anyway. 

Marvolo has been whispering to Harry. They’d been separated so long Marvolo couldn’t force himself out, he had to convince Harry to let him out. Unfortunately Harry was dismissive, pretending not to hear Marvolo’s words. It was making him impatient, one benefit of being closer to his creator was that it had allowed Marvolo access to knowledge he had long forgotten. A horcrux had only been placed into a human being once before as part of a wedding ceremony between a Dark Wizard and a princess he had kidnapped. He’d believed he could combine their souls thus forcing her to love him as a piece of herself. 

It had worked--to an extent. Their souls had blended and the girl was devoted to the dark wizard but her mind was shattered. She had been unable to reconcile the differences in his soul with her own, eventually she used the power he had gifted her to kill them both. Marvolo didn’t anticipate he and Harry having the same problems. They had lived together as one being for over a decade, Marvolo had melded and become part of Harry. Marvolo knew that if he could force Harry to let him out he could complete the ritual to bind them completely. It was vital he do this before Harry returned to school. If Voldemort realized Harry was a horcrux he could move Marvolo by killing Harry but once the ritual was complete nothing could separate them. 

So Marvolo waited and he whispered. He whispered when Harry was on his knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. He whispered late at night as Harry lay in his bed, his stomach cramping with hunger while inside he still howled with grief. But during the beatings Marvolo didn’t whisper.

Filthy Muggle! With every blow.

Every strike. I’ll tear his lungs out! Marvolo screamed and shouted his rage. In these moments Harry didn’t ignore him, no Harry welcomed him then. The heat of their combined anger carried Harry through the worst of the violence and the pain. When it was over Harry would fall limp and listless once more even as Marvolo continued raging. In a way Marvolo treasured the beatings, it showed Marvolo how he and Harry could be, should be. One mind, rather than two disapparate consciousnesses working against each other. 

When the opportunity to take control finally presented itself Marvolo was so excited about it he got a little carried away.


	2. We Are One

Voldemort had kept a team in place on Privet Drive since he’d located the street two weeks after his return. It hadn’t been very hard to locate the boy’s muggle relatives, Voldemort may not have liked muggles but he did have the good sense to use them. It had only taken a small amount of research to learn that Lily Potter had once been Lily Evans and that she had a muggle sister. From there it was a matter of checking public records and a telephone directory to find the correct address. Of course Voldemort himself hadn’t done any of that, that kind of work was what underlings were for. No he’d simply demanded the boy’s address and waited to have it delivered. 

They couldn’t get at the house. In point of fact the entire block was warded against them, in the end Voldemort had had to place an unmarked wizard who would never personally raise his wand against the boy, to watch him. The wizard had even had to take an oath swearing never to harm Harry Potter before he could cross the boundary the wards had created. In addition to his unmarked associate they had obtained a house directly outside the ward lines. There was never a time when less than four Death Eaters with at least one Inner Circle Member was not in the house waiting to hear that the Boy-Who-Lived was vulnerable to attack. 

Realistically Voldemort never intended to use the team. He didn’t expect Dumbledore to be so foolish as to allow the wards to actually fall and he knew from examining the wards himself that they were unlikely to be broken by his men. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be prepared, one never knew when someone else’s error could be used to his advantage. The Potter watch had become a kind of punishment mission for the upper level and a training exercise for the underlings. Which is why when the wards at Privet Drive fell at just past midnight three days before Harry Potter’s birthday, it took them only minutes to arrive on the scene. 

It had been nearly fifteen minutes since the wards fell at Privet Drive when Lucius Malfoy dropped Harry Potter at the Dark Lord’s feet. The boy was covered in blood, even his hair seemed weighed down and dripping with the stuff. He wore only a pair of muggle denim cut offs, oddly clean considering the rest of him was crimson. Unlike their previous meeting Harry did not seem to be in any kind of pain. In fact he had showed very little interest in Voldemort at all instead he seemed to be examining his surroundings with open curiosity. 

“What has happened? What have you done to him?” Voldemort demanded glaring angrily at Lucius. The blond Death Eater looked deeply shaken. 

“Nothing My Lord, when we arrived we could not enter the house. None of our spells could break through and we had begun to worry that Dumbledore would arrive soon when suddenly the doors opened. He was-” Lucius hesitated “-he was as you see him. I do not know what has happened.” 

“His wand?” Voldemort questioned even as his eyes returned to the bloody boy before him. Harry had not struggled and so he was able to move about the room freely, as Lucius spoke he’d drifted off to the side of the room and was now closely examining the design painted onto an antique vase that held a place of honor in the room. Voldemort remembered when Lucius had procured the item some years earlier, it was a design of snakes which subtly moved around the vase. The boy seemed enthralled by the way the snakes slide against each other in constant movement. 

“He surrendered it My Lord.” Lucius responded holding out the holly wand. Voldemort took it, noting that it was sticky with drying blood. His eyes returned to the boy who still seemed oblivious to the fact that he was standing in a room with Lord Voldemort about to face his death. Voldemort slid the boy’s wand into his pocket and withdrew his own, taking careful aim. 

“Crucio.” The boy collapsed to the ground with a scream, Voldemort smiled. He only held the spell for a few minutes, he didn’t want to damage the boy’s mind after all. No he wanted Harry Potter completely aware as he slowly killed him. “Do I have your attention now Harry? I know Lucius’ antiques are quite fascinating.” 

When Voldemort raised his wand he’d expected to hear something insolent. Or perhaps some pleading, the boy had surrendered after all. He had not expected laughter, not even the breathless slightly hysterical laughter the issued from the boy where he lay panting on the floor. 

“You only needed to ask for it My Lord, no need to be so tetchy.” The boy responded as he pushed himself back to his feet. Once standing Voldemort caught sight of the boy’s distinctive eyes for the first time and despite himself stepped back with a gasp of surprise. His eyes were still green, still large and rimmed in thick black lashes but each pupil was rimmed thin circle of red. The boy’s words were lost on him as he stared at the change. 

How was this possible? He had seen the boy not even three months before, there had been not even a trace of darkness on him. Yet now his eyes had changed? Voldemort knew the rituals which would cause such a change, he knew better than most the kind dark twisted magic had to be performed for it to show so visibly. His own Death Eater’s had not achieved such a change. 

Before Voldemort had quite decided how he would proceed sounds of apparition drew his attention momentarily away from the boy. The rest of Harry’s retrieval team and finally arrived and they seemed to be toting a large fat muggle between them. The muggle was obscenely large, with a mustache that seemed to commandeer half of his face. His clothing was torn and he was shaking slightly, his piggy eyes darting frantically about the room. 

“What,” Voldemort began drawing his words out slowly to emphasize his distaste “Is that and why have you brought it here?”

“My Lord, it is the boy’s muggle uncle.” The man restraining the muggle replied. Voldemort couldn’t remember his name but was fairly certain he was a half blood. Voldemort shot a crucio at him impatiently.

“And why have you brought it here?” He prompted the other three masked men who stood near the muggle. This time it was a woman who answered. 

“We questioned him about what happened at the house My Lord. What he told us defied belief, we brought him to be questioned by you personally.” Voldemort was about to demand more information but it seemed the muggle had caught sight of his nephew. Harry had been watching the exchange with rapt attention, something hungry and dangerous burning in his eyes. The muggled paled even further as he caught sight of the boy and scurried backwards eyes darting around as if searching for an exit. 

“Well Muggle!” Voldemort snapped catching the man’s attention “It seems you have a fantastic tale to tell us all, don’t keep me in suspense. I am not a patient man.” 

“He killed them! Used his wand and all, you people will punish him for that won’t you? My beautiful Petunia,” Vernon sobbed “And he slaughtered them!” 

Suddenly the muggle lunged forward hands outstretched toward his nephew. Harry Potter didn’t move, still watching his uncle and Voldemort noted the red band around his eyes seemed to have thickened. The muggles move was so sudden no one raised their wand to stop him as he barrelled toward his intended target. Suddenly, Harry grinned. Throwing his hand up in front of him a thick band of magic, almost like smoke flowed from between his fingers. It wrapped around the fat muggle, his screams filled the hall paralyzing even the Dark Lord in shock. 

Abruptly the muggle fell silent, his body still enveloped in the restricting magic and his face was still twisted in agony. When Harry Potter spoke there was a coolness and calm that his voice had lacked earlier on. His complete focus was on the muggle before him as a strange smile twisted his lips. 

“It’s a bit funny isn’t it Uncle Vernon? You were always so afraid of me, of what I might become. I never understood it of course, I suppose Marvolo did for it became very clear to me earlier tonight.” Voldemort jolted at the sound of his grandfathers name but was too hypnotised by the boy before him to demand answers as of yet. 

“You were so afraid and yet you could not resist. Could not help but push a little further-Too far as it turns out.” Harry let out a sudden sharp burst of laughter “And to think, if you had just kept your hands to yourself. Just allowed me to keep my head down, none of this would have happened.”

Harry stepped forward his feet, bloody but bare making barely a whisper against Lucius’ hardwood floor. Using magic he pulled the muggle into a painful hunch so that he could look into his eyes. His smile was vicious now as he looked at the trembling being before him. 

“I want that to be your last thought Vernon. As I tear you to shreds and you feel like the pain will never end. I want you to remember that your entire family is dead, all because you decided you wanted to fuck your nephew. And you didn’t even manage that did you?” Harry gave another trilling laugh before jerking his hand to the side. There was a loud wrenching noise and Vernon Dursley exploded.

For a moment there was only shocked silence and the sound of bits of flesh dripping to the floor. Voldemort was honestly torn, on the one side he was covered in bits of muggle confronting an enemy who seemed to have transformed overnight. On the other Harry Potter was finally within his grasp unarmed and apparently unhinged, an easy kill. He decided to focus on the positive, banishing the mess from his robes he turned to Harry Potter his red eyes narrowed into a furious glare. 

“If you are hoping that this display, however impressive, will compel me to spare your life you are sadly mistaken.” He spoke in a slow measured tone as he stepped toward the waiting teenager. He noted he had Potter’s complete attention now, the red in his eyes seemed to have lessened once more but his face held a look of amusement. Voldemort let out a low growl of frustration shooting another curse that had the boy back to writhing on the floor. His rage only increased when Voldemort finally released the curse only to receive another breathless laugh. 

Voldemort’s anger doubled and he move quickly hauling the boy from the ground by his hair. Harry didn’t seem to mind, even though his legs could not quite support his weight yet, he simply gave the Dark Lord a hazy sort of smile. 

“What is wrong with you?” Voldemort demanded shaking the boy violently. 

“Nothing, I’m just enjoying knowing something that you don’t.” The boy replied giving what could only be described as a giggle. 

“Tell me what you mean!” Voldemort demanded, what could he know? The prophecy? Did it somehow draw the boy here? Voldemort didn’t wait for him to respond instead driving into his mind with all the violence of his rage. Normally Voldemort would have had some concern about damaging Harry’s mind but the moment he began he found that concern was pointless. His memories were scattered, while normally it was easy for Voldemort to coax a mind to offer him the information he needed Harry’s mind was simply too chaotic. Pulling out of Harry’s mind he found the boy still limp in his arms. Harry it seemed had no desire to struggle or resist having his mind plundered. 

“Tell Me.” 

“I’m your Hor-” 

The boy was cut off by the loud guffaws of the lower Death Eaters. Voldemort was disappointed. Surely not? The boy had simply decided to offer up his body? 

“Surely you do not think.” he began cooly “That any pleasure I might gain from your body could possibly compare to the pleasure I will gain from watching the light leave your eyes.” 

The boy glared his eyes suddenly flaring red. 

“Horcrux” He hissed the word so low it was almost parseltongue and Voldemort felt a chill of dread trickle down his spine. What did the boy know?

“Leave Us!” Voldemort snapped shooting a dangerous look at the lingering Death Eaters. They obeyed instantly gone from the room almost as he finished speaking. Voldemort did not speak or move until the sound of the door slamming closed behind Lucius reached his ears. Then he turned to the boy.

“Speak” he ordered. 

“I’m your horcrux.” The boy responded with a smirk. Voldemort let out a cold laugh.

“Did you think this your trump card child? That you would come here, show off a bit of Dark Magic and I would spare you? You are a fool boy, my Horcrux can be moved, alas you would not survive such a transfer.” Rather than paling or looking cowed the boy’s smirked turned into a sharp smile. He looked positively demonic eyes as red as the blood on his skin.

“No you cannot. Haven’t you realized yet? We are one, this very night! We are one and nothing can separate us now that we are bound.” Harry’s eyes were full red now and positively manic as he spoke. His joy seemed to shine through his wild eyes desperate and unrestrained. Voldemort hissed in horror as his mind assembled the clues. 

The blood on the boy was not from injury or even from however he’d chosen to kill his relatives. It was from a ritual, a binding ritual which required the supplicant bathe in the blood of a relative. Voldemort took the boy shaking him again glaring into the red stained eyes wanting to see some evidence that it was all a lie. He saw none.

“Why?! Do you see what you have done? You have shattered his mind! Why would you do this?” Voldemort demanded wanting to know what had compelled the separated piece of his soul to act in a way decidedly against their interest. 

“Don’t you understand I had too? You would have killed us, destroyed a piece of yourself! Or you would have tried to separate us but you must not! You cannot I am Harry! We are one now!” The boy spoke earnestly sinking to his knees and reaching up to clutch Voldemort’s hand between both of us. “We are one now and I am loyal only to you! I am loyal to our cause. Harry has come to see, the filthy muggle helped him. He agrees the muggles are too dangerous to be allowed to remain. You have my loyalty, you are a part of me.”


	3. Proof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the torture warning comes into play.

Voldemort gave the boy a room and ordered him to wash the blood off. He’d ordered one of the house elves to find him some clothing. Harry had only been wearing a pair of cut off denim shorts when he was captured, they hadn’t even fit properly sliding down on his slim hips and smearing the blood that coated him. Voldemort had to think. The thing he hated most about Harry Potter was inability to plan for him. It seemed like no matter how Voldemort plotted the boy would respond by doing something utterly bizarre and unforeseen. Voldemort had always prided himself on his ability to read people and predict what they were going to do next but for some reason this ability utterly failed him when it came to Harry Potter. 

The more he thought about it the more Voldemort was tempted to just kill the boy anyway. He had other Horcruxes after all, one less would be unfortunate but at least he’d have some measure of control over what happened from there. Even as he thought it Voldemort knew he would not, the boy’s power had intrigued him. He hadn’t even used a spell to kill his uncle just pure wandless magic. It had been magnificent. Even his most vicious Death Eaters could not have achieved it and he knew the boy was loyal. Had seen it in his eyes, there was something particularly delicious about stealing him from Dumbledore’s clutches. Voldemort almost hoped his plans for the old man failed this year, just so he could introduce him to the new Harry Potter. 

That decided things for him, so Voldemort went in search of Lucius to summon his Death Eaters. He waited in silence as the group assembled and by the time Snape finally arrived the boy had finished with his bath. He slipped in so silently the Death Eaters took no notice but Voldemort felt his magic as it moved down the hall. Another change from binding his soul was the increase in magical awareness. Voldemort had always known Harry Potter was using only a fraction of the power available to him, now it seemed every bit had been unleashed. It would have honestly been a bit frightening if the boy hadn’t already changed loyalties. 

When he finally entered he was dressed all in black, Voldemort supposed they were probably Draco’s clothes. The elves had resized them to fit the boy’s thinner frame and he looked striking. The finely made clothing clung to Harry’s lean frame, the black of his clothing making his skin seem almost ghostly. The only color in his face were his pale pink lips and wide eyes, more green then red as he looked around at the assembled Death Eaters. 

“It’s seems our Mister Potter has decided to change sides.” Voldemort spoke slowly, drawing out his words into low hissing syllables. The Death Eaters shifted about and Voldemort was able to pinpoint the exact moment their eyes landed on Harry Potter. The boy moved through the crowd gracefully until he stood almost next to Voldemort, then he turned to the assembled group and smiled. “I feel it is only right that if Harry wishes to join us. He must first prove himself- Crabbe, Nott, Lestrange and Malfoy you will each leave and return in no less than ten minutes with a muggle. At least one child.” 

The men nodded and vanished from the room even as a tense excitement grew among the rest of the group. While they waited the Death Eater’s knew to remain silent, asking questions at this juncture before the boy had either proved himself or failed to do so, would only result in violent retribution. Harry it seemed was once again the exception to the rule for after about a minute of tense silence the boy began to hum. Every eye was riveted to him as the boy swayed slowly in tune with his humming. Voldemort frowned, the tune was familiar to him but in a distant way that made him think it had been many years since he’d heard it. 

A sudden vision of a strawberry blond girl swaying as she mopped a hardwood floor, singing to herself. A nine year old Tom Riddle had sometimes listened to her, hidden from sight in one of the doorways. Voldemort couldn’t remember her name now, but he could still remember with startling clarity the way she had looked after a couple of the older boys got to her. It had never been explained to him exactly what had happened to her but she never sang after that. It had only taken Tom a week to find something he liked to listen to more than her singing, at the cave he’d made those older boys scream. 

“Crucio.” Harry collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain his screams driving out the stray memory he had summoned for Voldemort. The sound of apparition drew Voldemort’s attention away and he lifted the spell. Malfoy was the first back, floating a woman and little girl before him. Both had been petrified and landed on the floor with a loud thunk when he dropped them. Harry had pushed himself into a seated position with his legs crossed beneath him but made no move to stand. Instead he watched curiously as each of the Death Eaters arrive with their offerings. Crabbe had brought a burly blond man who looked to be in about his forties, Nott had brought another child this time a boy, and Rodolphus Lestrange had brought a slim blond women who looked to be in her early twenties. 

Once they were all assembled Voldemort turned to the boy and offered him his wand. 

“Prove yourself.” Harry accepted his wand with a wide grin, his eyes were mostly green but the red seemed to be flexing itself growing bigger and then dying down once more as the boy approached the prisoners. He walked slowly, seeming to examine each of them in turn before finally coming to a stop before the little girl Lucius had brought with him. Harry dropped to his knees and lifted her into a sitting position before cancelling the curse that held her frozen. The child’s eyes were blue glistening with tears that began to fall almost at once, her shaky sobs echoed through the hall. 

“Shh,” Harry soothed her in a soft gentle voice. “You mustn’t cry, you’re much too pretty for that.”

Voldemort frowned, had he been mistaken? This gentleness was not what he had expected from someone who had literally blown up his relative. The girl was lovely however, soft waves of auburn hair framed a cherubic face. Her hair had been brushed until it shone and was carefully held out of her face by a large bow, she was dressed formally as was her mother. 

“Mummy,” The girl whimpered her eyes turning toward her still paralyzed mother beside her. Harry took her face and gently turned her eyes back to him. 

“You mustn’t worry about her now. I bet your mummy takes good care of you doesn’t she? Brushes your hair and dresses you in pretty clothes, just like a little doll?” Harry spoke softly as he trailed his fingers through the little girls tresses, the child nodded and Harry gave her a warm smile.

“Tell me darling how old are you?” 

“Five and a half.” The girl responded her voice still shaking but not as frightened as before. Voldemort watched as Harry affected an air of surprise. 

“Such a big girl you are! And tell me what is your name?”

“Nevaeh.” Harry frowned and clucked his tongue. 

“That’s not a proper name for a pretty little doll like you. No I think from now on I will call you--Cruciatus.” He nodded and gave the girl another smile. 

“Now Cruciatus, would you like to see some magic? Real magic mind, not the pretend stuff you’ve seen before.” 

The little girls eyes went wide and she nodded, gaining another smile. Harry waved his wand and a flock of chirping birds burst out the tip. The little girl gave a delighted laugh and clapped happily, this seemed to be what Harry had been waiting for because while the girl was distracted he cast another spell freezing her face in that delighted expression. It took Voldemort a moment to realize what was being done as the child’s limbs each seemed to become strangely still. Harry watched the transformation with that same pleased smile, his eyes still more green than red. 

“Don’t you look lovely, but I’m afraid you’re rather too large to make a proper doll.” Another spell and the frozen child was shrinking down until she was about the size of a large infant. Then Harry scooped her into his arms gave her a squeeze and turned to her mother with a beaming smile. 

“I’m so pleased she’s just the prettiest little doll I could have hoped for.” He released the spell on the women. She tried to lunge at him as if to seize the doll from his arms. Harry scowled “Crucio.” 

For several seconds there was only the sound of the woman’s screams. Voldemort searched Harry’s face for any sign of hesitation or remorse but found none. They boys eyes were red now but his face was a perfect picture of loathing as he stared at the women before him. After what seemed like a very long time Harry finally released her. 

“You should not try to touch things that don’t belong to you.” 

“She’s mine! My baby and you’ve killed her! MONSTER!” Another flick of his wand and the women fell silent once more. 

“She’s not dead.” Harry told her in a way that might have been comforting except the woman seemed to realize the implications of that at once. Shaking her head desperately as tears began to form in her eyes. Harry smiled. “Oh I see you understand. Yes she’ll stay just like this forever. Even long after I have died little Cruciatus will live on.” 

This time Voldemort didn’t even hear the curse which put the woman back on the ground and screaming. It wasn’t cruciatus, but a flaying curse. One Voldemort himself had been particularly fond of while he was travelling in his youth. Long strips of flesh were peeling themselves off of the woman’s body in long curling strips like the peel of an apple. The woman’s face was a mess of tears as she screamed in agony. A pool of blood was forming underneath her as the blood ran from her wounds. After few minutes Harry ended the spell and used his wand to banish the bits of flesh he had removed. 

“Why?” The question was only audible because everyone else in the hall was utterly silent. The woman’s voice was hoarse from her screams and her face was caked in tears and snot along with some dirt from the floor on which she still lay. Harry moved closer to her crouching over her limp body so he could look her in the eyes. 

“Because you are vermin. Like filthy little cockroaches that breed and breed only to send their offspring out to devour and destroy.” His words were said kindly, gently as if to soften the blow.

“You took very good care of your own little girl but you let children in other countries starve to death while you drape her in silk and velvet. You have become complacent, destroying the earth like a plague with your apathy. All this while I and those like me possess powers of which you cannot even dream. 

You muggles had a man called Darwin and he had the most wonderful saying. Survival of the fittest. Yes I see you are familiar with the concept but you muggles have misunderstood. You believe yourselves to be the very top. A proof of evolutionary success but really you’re nothing. Food for the vampires, and playthings for beings like me. You are a plague upon the Earth. Take comfort in knowing that this day, your death, is only the beginning for My Lord Voldemort will wipe the earth clean.” 

If the woman had something to say on the matter she was not given a chance to share it. A killing curse shot from the boy’s wand with an ease that suggested years of practice but Harry had already moved onto the next muggle before it left the woman's eyes dead and glassy. 

Voldemort had heard the term breathtaking before but had never truly understood it until now. There was something so entrancing about watching the way the boy moved. The slow careful steps that carried him from one victim to the next, the careful contemplation before the boy cast each spell. They were all spells Voldemort knew, spells he could only assume Harry had gleaned from his Horcrux but Harry had a vicious creativity that was all his own. 

Harry walked slowly down the line of muggles before stopping at the blond woman. Like the other she was still frozen. She was dressed in a sleeveless top and yoga pants, both vibrantly pink. Her blond hair was cropped short but the roots were starting show, testifying to her natural hair color. She was so skinny she had slightly starved look to her, with her bones poking out visibly in her face and above her tank top. 

“You look hungry love.” Harry told her softly as he released the spell, her body sunk into the floor before she pushed herself up and looked earnestly up at the boy. 

“Please.” She began with a soft whimper as Harry moved closer cupping her face in his hands. 

“Don’t speak.” He replied casting a wordless spell to silence her. Tears began to roll silently down the woman’s face as Harry removed his wand and pointed it at her face. For a moment Voldemort was disappointed, after his show with the other woman he had expected something more creative than a quick kill. His disappointment didn’t last long however as he realized the boy wasn’t killing her. Instead Harry was carefully transfiguring the woman’s teeth. Changing them from the pristine, perfectly even white teeth she’d had before into sharp vicious looking fangs. When he moved out of the way Voldemort could see the teeth were so large they protruded slightly from her mouth leaving her lips bleeding as they brushed against the razor sharp teeth. 

Harry stood and circled the women slowly before seizing her by the hair and dragging her away from the other hostages. She stumbled to keep up with him, tripping over her feet while simultaneously trying to keep her overflowing mouth perfectly still. Harry dropped her on the ground and began to cast. A few minutes later and a cage became visible around the woman. 

“So you don’t go trying to attack someone who matters lovely.” Harry explained distractedly as he aimed his wand in her direction again. The women scurried back only to jolt forward when her back impacted the side of the cage. “Don’t touch the bars, wouldn’t want a dreadful burn would we? Anthropophagium.” 

The boy paused seeming to watch as the spell took hold. Voldemort supposed that was what the cage was for. The cannibalism curse created a yearning for human flesh. Voldemort looked back at the other captives with curiosity, whom did Harry plan to feed her? Harry didn’t seem interested in the hostages he was just watching the woman as her eyes became a bit wild. Suddenly he smirked. 

“I’m not patient and I have others to attend to darling, Ad Famem.” There was a brief moment where Voldemort was honestly confused. A starvation curse? Then he watched as the woman desperately threw herself at the bars only to jerk away as they burned her flesh. She began making strange desperate noises even as her eyes focussed in on her own hands. Then he understood, the hunger would be so intense now and there was only one thing that would appeal to her now that Harry had cursed her with cannibalism. Despite himself Voldemort began to laugh. Harry turned at the sound and sent him such a bright beaming smile that again Voldemort found himself breathless. 

Harry didn’t bother to watch the woman devour herself his eyes already focussed on his next victim. It seemed the other child had caught his attention. The boy was older than the girl, Harry still carried her doll as he walked up to him. He was a fat child, and there was a smear of chocolate on his cheek that suggested only his kidnapping had stopped him from stuffing his face. Harry stood above him, the only sound in the hall were the woman’s sobs interspersed by breaking bones, gnashing teeth and wet chewing. Voldemort didn’t expect her to last long at this rate. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Over his shoulder he spoke to Voldemort “I find no joy in hurting children My Lord and there was no beauty in this one.”

The tone was borderline disrespectful and he likely would have crucioed any of his Death Eaters for such insolence but at the moment he simply didn’t care. Voldemort was far more interested in seeing what sort of fate Harry had in mind for the final muggle. He was already looking forward to when he could do this again. Perhaps he would bring the boy on his next raid. 

The final muggle was a man in his early forties. It was clear that up until now life had been kind to him. He wore a fine suit and a diamond glistened up at them from his tie pin. He was muscular with a clean shaven face and carefully gelled blond hair. Harry released him from the paralyzing curse before he was even close to him. Giving the man time to look around and really absorb his surroundings. His eyes darted frantically around to the woman still caged, she’d gone quiet now still chewing but pale and limp her own blood pooled around her like a crimson pond and the bodies Harry had left behind him before finally settling on the small perfectly realistic doll Harry carried along with him. 

“Don’t kill me.” The man began his tone wasn’t pleading so much as bargaining, as if he thought he could talk his way out of trouble. “You’ll regret it. I’m a powerful man, an important man-what you’ve done here - the things you are capable of -I could make you a lot of money.” 

The man wasn’t British, by the accent Voldemort would have guessed American. Harry allowed him to talk as he prowled closer, nothing on his face giving away what he thought about what the man had offered him. 

“And I won’t tell anyone about this. . .it can stay just between us.” Still Harry said nothing as he came to a stop directly in front of the man. The muggle had pushed himself up to his feet by now, he stood over six feet tall and towered over Harry’s much smaller frame. “I would be missed you know, I’ve got powerful connections. You may be able to do a few tricks with that stick of yours but I’d like to see what you do against an AK 47.” 

“Crucio” Harry’s lips had twisted into an amused little smirk as he held the curse. Voldemort noted they were so red now that the green was barely distinguishable. The man collapsed to the ground twitching and screaming in agony. Harry held him there eyes burning in vicious delight for nearly an entire minute before releasing the curse. 

“Please.” The man sobbed “Please I have a family.” 

He climbed to his knees hands still shaking from the after effects of the curse as he fumbled to pull his wallet from his pocket. Harry waited before leaning down and speaking in almost a whisper. 

“Offer me money.” 

“As much as you want! I have money, I can get a-a million dollars into your account by the end of the night just-let me- I have to make a call-” 

“Crucio.” Harry grinned now as he watched the man writhe in agony. When he lifted the curse hi face shifted into one of disinterest. “I don’t need money. What else do you have to offer?” 

The man still lay on the ground panting, cheeks streaked with tears. His eyes seemed to dart about frantically as he tried to think of the right thing. 

“I can make you famous.” He finally offered “I’m a record producer, I discover stars. Just imagine the whole world will know your name.” 

“Crucio” This time it was only for a moment. “The whole world already knows my name. Try again.” 

“I-I- What do you want? Just tell me what you want!” 

“What about sex?” The muggled looked confused.

“I don’t-” 

“It’s not complicated. Would you trade your body for your life? I would let you live here, as my personal sex slave.” Voldemort almost interrupted. Surely the boy knew that would not be allowed? He decided to wait however before he intervened, so far Harry had not disappointed him. 

“Yes.” The muggle replied after a brief hesitation. 

“Then take your clothes off.” Harry’s voice was totally calm as he stared the muggle down. 

“Here? But-” the man hesitated but Harry merely raised a single eyebrow and the man rapidly began to remove his clothing. The Death Eaters all looked on in silence as the man disrobed until he was standing naked before them. 

“Crucio.” Harry spoke in a bored tone as he bent over and rifled through the man’s discarded clothes. A moment later he stood with the muggles wallet in hand and was flipping through it as he lifted the curse. “As if I would ever dirty myself with a muggle. You have a lovely family.” 

“I-” The man was shaking and he seemed disoriented after so many curses. “Yes.” 

“What are their names?” Harry asked mildly. The man still hadn’t risen from the floor, his face was streaked with tears. 

“Umm m-my wife is Susan. Then I have my twin girls Hannah and Hope they just turned seven.”

“How about a trade?” Harry inquired his tone still vaguely disinterested. 

“A-a trade?” The man asked shakily.

“The girls for your life. I mean you can always have more children.” 

“What would you do to them?” the man asked his tone shaking. Harry shrugged patting the doll in his arms. 

“They’re very pretty, I may just keep them.” 

The man’s eyes focussed on the horrifying doll child Harry still held clutched in his arms. Voldemort was sure the man would refuse but instead he began to sob. Climbing to his knees and reaching out in supplication. 

“Please-” Harry cut him off.

“I gave you a very generous offer. One I did not give the others now Make Your Choice. Your life or your children?”

The man gave another wrenching sob before he looked back up into Harry’s face. 

“My life” he choked out. 

“You would rather die than sacrifice your children?”

“No- I choose my life.” he replied voice shaking as he hung his head. 

“Crucio!” Harry’s eyes were green as he stared down in loathing at the muggle man. “You would sacrifice your own children? You disgust me.” 

Harry spat on the man but did not lift the curse, his eyes seeming to fade from red to green glowing in vicious delight as the man wailed in agony. Harry didn’t stop at all, he just watched holding the curse as the man screamed and screamed until the vessels in the man’s brain burst and his body shut down completely. It seemed no one in the room moved for a long time after that. The room was silent save for the boy’s panting breaths, as if he’d just run a mile. The women in the cage had long since stopped moving and the Death Eaters were frozen in numb shock at what they had seen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

 

“So you’re going to let me live?” The boy asked his tone almost teasing. Voldemort had dismissed his Death Eaters with strict instructions not to harm the Boy-Who-Lived and to keep the details of his defection to themselves. Now only Harry Potter remained, his eyes had already faded back to green and he sat on the floor toying with his little doll’s hair. 

“Crucio. Learn some respect or I may just change my mind.” Voldemort threatened, even though he and inexplicably the boy, both knew he didn’t mean it. Somehow in the course of an evening Harry Potter had gone from Voldemort’s worst enemy to his most precious follower. Not that he would let the boy realize it. 

“Forgive me My Lord, I fear the binding has affected my mind more than I had anticipated.” Voldemort noted the red eyes and knew he was talking to his horcrux. 

“You are Marvolo yes? That is what he called you earlier.” Voldemort inquired. The red eyes flashed in anger. 

“I am Harry, we are one!” he hissed slipping into parseltongue. Voldemort almost rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, so you’ve said. But if that were so his eyes would be red or green, certainly not both.” Harry(or rather Marvolo) grit his teeth in anger. 

“I will admit, I had expected our minds to blend more easily. I had not anticipated how difficult it would be to reconcile Harry’s beliefs with my own. That is irrelevant however because we are one now. Harry understands about the muggles, we even have a few ideas to move your plans forward My Lord. His mind is not what it was but are you truly displeased with the change?” Harry had stood as he spoke, moving closer to the Dark Lord until he stood directly before him, tilting his head back to meet Voldemort’s eyes. Without deciding to Voldemort lifted a hand to cup the boys cheek, Harry skin was warm and smooth against his own. 

“No, I am not displeased.” He allowed, suddenly the red drained from the boys eyes and a beaming smile graced his lips. Turning his face Harry pressed his lips against Voldemort’s palm and the press of the warm, dry lips against his skin sent a strange chill through him. 

“Thank you,” The boy breathed the words, seeming to bask in the feel of Voldemort’s touch. “I live only to please you My Lord.” 

Voldemort stepped back, yanking his hand away from the boy’s face. He was shaken by the boy’s show of devotion though he could not have said why. Perhaps it was because the boy did not fear him. Voldemort had many loyal followers, some he was certain as devoted as this boy but their devotion sprang from fear. Harry’s devotion was something rather different. 

“Go to your room now. I will speak with you tomorrow.” Voldemort snapped, his tone sharp. Harry didn’t argue or seem distressed instead he merely bowed his head respectfully before scooping up his little doll and leaving the room.


	4. Impulse

Harry Potter was like a curse. Like a slow acting poison that slipped through his veins, subtly disrupting all he had worked so carefully to create. The worst part was half the time Voldemort didn’t even mind. The boy had accompanied him on several raids in the three weeks since he’d come to stay at the manor. Mostly because Voldemort so enjoyed watching him with the muggles. Often he’d become distracted, mesmerized as the boy tortured his victims. Harry had collected a few more dolls, each was remarkably lovely and Voldemort knew Harry spent much of his free time tending to them. 

Voldemort found himself giving the boy liberties he had never allowed even his most favored of servants. Often in meetings he would find himself wanting to consult the boy, his mind was twisted but Voldemort had seen flashes of genius on more than one occasion. Though he was certain these moments came not from Harry himself but from Marvolo, at least that is what Voldemort told himself. He rarely punished Harry for his almost constant insolence and when he did it was less because he was angry and more because he simply enjoyed making the boy scream. 

There had been some clashes early on between Harry and the Death Eaters. Bellatrix in particular had been very suspicious of the boy’s sudden change of loyalty. She had voiced her opinions loudly several times but Harry was even crazier than she was. One day when he became tired of listening to her he’d held her under Cruciatus for several minutes. Voldemort was sure if Bella’s brain hadn’t already been scrambled eggs it would have been after that. Oddly the two seemed to have bonded after that, Bellatrix had become one of Harry’s most adamant supporters among the Death Eaters. 

For the first two weeks Harry had been at his side nearly every moment. Voldemort had enjoyed that, but it was also frustrating. Infuriating really to respond to the boy in such strange ways. He was a constant distraction, a frustrating annoying distraction. In one particular meeting, with a few low ranking Death Eaters Harry had sat at his feet ignoring everything around him in favor of cooing to a little yellow haired doll he’d created during a raid the night before. The other’s had been so mesmerized by the boy’s strange behavior that Voldemort had become furious. Why should they stare at him so? He’d become more and more infuriated until finally pinning the boy to the ground with a vicious crucio and banishing him from the room. 

Since then Harry had remained scarce. Attending any meeting he was summoned to but no longer dogging Voldemort’s steps. Really Voldemort preferred it that way. If occasionally he looked for the boy to ask his thoughts and finding him absent crucioed the nearest Death Eater to him, that was just his way of keeping his followers on their toes. 

It shouldn’t have taken Bellatrix teasing the boy for Voldemort to notice. Just because Harry was keeping to himself didn’t mean they didn’t see each other daily. Voldemort watched him during meals and during any meetings he required Harry to attend. He had noted that Harry had begun to spend time with the Malfoy boy but did not consider this odd as he was the only person in the house even close to Harry’s age. So when Harry pushed his chair back from the dining table only to stand and look pointedly at Draco who promptly abandoned his own food Voldemort thought nothing of it. At least not until Bellatrix giggled and began to sing.

“Harry and Drakey sitting in a tree-” Even this would not have raised much question for Voldemort except-he blushed. Harry’s normally pale cheeks flushed a vibrant pink making his eyes seem brighter, before he scowled at Bellatrix and strode out of the hall Draco close on his heels with Bella’s song following behind. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

He hadn’t denied it. He had blushed and he hadn’t denied it. 

Voldemort was on his feet and following the boy without even deciding to do so. The halls of Malfoy Manor were always dark despite the candles that lined them. Voldemort didn’t need to see to know where the boy was. Despite his difficulty in actually reading the boys mind Voldemort was still able to access his Horcrux from anywhere and by extension the boys mind. He used this access to direct his steps and it wasn’t long until the glint of silvery blond hair caught his attention. The Malfoy boy had Harry pressed into an alcove. 

“Crucio.” Draco hit the ground with a pained scream. Voldemort felt a flash of satisfaction at this but it quickly vanished as Harry darted forward. 

“Stop!” the boy cried reaching out his hands as if to take Voldemort’s wand. 

Voldemort hit him. His hand flashing out lightning fast with enough force to send the boy hurtling backwards into the wall with a loud thunk. The action could not have surprised the boy more than it surprised Voldemort himself. He detested physical violence. He was a wizard, why should he lower himself to fight as a muggle. Voldemort lifted his curse despite wanting to continue hurting the Malfoy boy. 

“If you ever touch what is mine again, you will be shown no further mercy.” Voldemort promised coldly. 

“Forgive me, My Lord.” Draco Malfoy began moving to his knees and crawling forward as if to kiss the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes. Normally this would please Voldemort but now it only disgusted him further. 

“Get out of my sight!” He spat but did not bother to watch the boy flee as he rounded on Harry Potter. The boy’s jaw was red and already beginning to swell, a trickle of blood had begun down one side from where his lip had split from the force of Voldemort’s strike. Reaching out Voldemort curled his hand around the boy’s pristine white throat and squeezed threateningly before he spoke. Hissing out his words in parseltongue to prevent them being overheard. 

“You belong to me! Body and Soul. No one touches what is mine unless I give them leave. Do you understand me boy?” Rather than looking cowed the boy looked angry his eyes flashing from red to green as if his broken mind couldn’t decide who should be in control. 

“Do you expect me to die a virgin then?” Harry demanded angrily. 

Something hot and possessive shot through Voldemort. The sensation was so powerful, so foreign the Dark Lord didn’t bother to analyze it. He only knew that no one had ever touched the boy, he was pure and he belonged entirely to Voldemort.

“No” Voldemort lunged forward seizing the boy’s lips in a demanding and punishing kiss. The boy tasted of his morning tea, but with an underlying sweetness that was entirely his own. Alongside that was the coppery taste from the blood that had stained his lips, it was intoxicating. Voldemort kissed him and kissed him, feeling as Harry responded. The soft touch of fingers on the bare skin of his scalp brought Voldemort back to himself so he pushed the boy away from him. For a moment Voldemort could swear he saw triumph in the boy’s eyes but it vanished from sight as Harry bowed his head. 

“As My Lord wishes.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lord Voldemort did not take lovers. In his youth, when his followers still consisted of only a few he had done so. Ultimately however he had found the inconvenience far outweighed any pleasure gained. For some reason taking his followers to bed created expectations they would never have dared to voice in other circumstances. They all seemed to think themselves special and Voldemort would have to go to great pains to disavow them of this notion. Even in hindsight he could not understand what had possessed him to behave as he had toward Harry Potter. 

The boy hadn’t bothered to heal the bruise on his face. Instead Harry had allowed it to heal naturally, without magic. In doing so he forced the Dark Lord to watch it as it grew darker and darker before finally beginning to fade. To add more to his frustration Voldemort could not decide if this pleased him or enraged him. He suspected leaving the mark was Marvolo’s way of censuring him for resorting to muggle violence. Despite this there was something pleasing about seeing the bruise. It was yet another mark that Harry Potter belonged to him. 

In his moment of impetuous Voldemort had not considered what the true consequences of claiming the boy would be. The binding Marvolo had used to combine the Horcrux with Harry’s soul was originally a marriage binding. Only the fact that they had not consummated the spell had prevented them from official recognition as a bonded pair. The spell was old enough that it predated the tokens Wizard’s now used. That meant there would be no hiding it if Voldemort chose to bed the boy, they each would be marked to show they belonged to each other. The marks, while old fashioned, would still be easily recognized by any respectable pureblood. 

Not that any of that mattered because the boy was not speaking to him. Harry was angry at him. Something Voldemort had not realized was possible until he’d seen it for himself. Somehow the boy had learned of the task Voldemort had assigned the Malfoy boy. Voldemort was not sure how he had discovered it, he suspected either Narcissa or Bellatrix were to blame but he had no proof. Also it was perfectly possible that the boy had simply plucked the knowledge from Voldemort’s brain. He was never sure how much Harry actually had access too. 

Potter was not so foolish as to be blatantly disrespectful. He still answered direct questions but generally his answers were monosyllabic in nature. For Voldemort what was worse was that the boy no longer volunteered to accompany him on raids. If ordered along he would attend of course but somehow he would slip out of the Dark Lord’s sight early on and Voldemort would only learn of his activities later from others. In addition the boy had not smiled at him in weeks. Not that Voldemort cared about such a thing, certainly not but it was the clearest show of the boy’s anger. 

Voldemort had hoped to tempt the boy by planning a raid on Little Whinging. Unfortunately the boy had not volunteered and Voldemort was currently taking out his annoyance on a teenage muggle with messy dark hair. In truth the muggle bore very little resemblance to the Boy-Who-Lived but it was close enough for Voldemort to take great pleasure in breaking every bone in his body. He’d been torturing the same muggle almost since they arrived, using magic to keep him alive and draw out the Dark Lord’s fun. Despite these measures the boy had finally stopped screaming and begging for mercy so the only sound in the room was the occasional snap of a bone before it instantly fused back together. 

Without the distraction of the boy’s screams Voldemort found it much more difficult to ignore the obvious differences between the real Harry Potter and his muggle proxy. Most glaring was the muggle’s eyes, a muddy brown rather than the vibrant green and red to which the Dark Lord had become accustomed. With a scowl he directed another spell at the muggle, the boy couldn’t help but scream as his eyes were burned from within leaving smoking craters in their wake. It still wasn’t enough so with a sharp movement of his wand he ended the spell keeping the muggle boy alive. Voldemort watched as blood bubbled up from the muggles lips, it reminded him sharply of the way Harry’s blood had tasted. 

A sound distracted the Dark Lord from his thoughts, causing him to look around the muggle home. It was as disgusting as it was ordinary, he’d already disposed of the boy’s parents and they lay exactly where they had fallen. The sound was a kind of soft squeak or perhaps a whimper? Voldemort stalked quietly through the darkened home, he was alone his other Death Eaters already having moved on. He removed his wand intent on casting a detection spell when his eyes caught a photo hung on the wall. It showed the muggle boy, smiling warmly and surrounded by his mother and father. It was perhaps a year or two old judging by the the size of the boy and on his lap was perched a wide eyed little girl. She had sleek black hair and unlike her brother she did possess vibrant green eyes. She was lovely. 

Voldemort cast his revealing spell and to his surprise found that the child had been hiding under the sofa watching his every move. Stooping down he reached underneath the sofa and curled his fingers into the child’s thick black hair and pulling her forward. The child began to sob and cry, desperately trying to grasp onto the sofa. Voldemort silenced her with a spell before lifting her up by the hair to examine her. Her face was blotchy and red, smeared with snot. The dark hair was striking but tangled and she wore only a large cotton T-shirt. It looked rather ugly with it’s face twisted in distress but as he examined the photos on the wall he could see it cleaned up rather nicely. 

After a thoughtful moment Voldemort made a decision and summoned Bellatrix as he dropped the sobbing thing on the floor. She scrambled as if to escape but Bellatrix apparated directly in front of her. Bellatrix stank of blood and smoke, her eyes were bright with pleasure at having been summoned as she dropped into a low bow. 

“How may I serve you My Lord?”

“Clean that thing up.” Voldemort ordered gesturing to the child “and put it into something appropriate.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~```

Voldemort stepped into Potter’s suite without knocking (Dark Lord’s do not knock) but the boy was not in his sitting area. The doll had been quite lovely once Bella was finished with it, Voldemort now had it shrunken down and stored in the pocket of his robes. He wasn’t in the habit of giving gifts and still wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do so. This thought made him angry, why should he cater to a child’s anger? Bringing him gifts as if Harry Potter were his Lord and not the other way around! Voldemort scoffed and spun on his heel to leave the room but was stopped as the door opened and Harry Potter stepped inside. 

The boy stopped abruptly at the sight of him. His green eyes wide and startled before he dipped into a bow. He did not speak but looked up at the Dark Lord with open curiosity on his face. 

“I have returned from the raid on Little Whinging.” His tone was stiff and awkward, infuriating the Dark Lord. He was Lord Voldemort! The most powerful wizard of the age, the most feared in centuries and he would not be made to feel awkward by a whelp who had not even completed his schooling! If he wanted to give a bloody gift to the boy he would and so help him if the boy was less than grateful. “I brought you this.”

Voldemort removed the doll from his pocket and removed the extra shrinking charm on it before shoving it into Harry’s hands. Bella had done her work well and the doll was barely recognizable as the snivelling child Voldemort had found hiding in her muggle home. Her black hair had been tamed and curled, her face was no longer blotchy but pale as porcelain. Bella had dressed her in a dark green dress that made her bright green eyes even more striking and a cheering charm had lit the child’s face with a delighted smile. 

“Oh My Lord!” Harry breathed his eyes fixated on the doll he now held in his hands. “She’s so beautiful! What is her name?”

Voldemort had not bothered to ask so he simply offered the first one that popped into his mind. 

“Merope.” For a brief second the boy’s eyes flashed red in recognition of the name but before Voldemort could suggest another Harry threw himself at him. Voldemort stiffened as he felt the boy’s arms wrap around his neck and Harry’s lean body press against his own. 

“Thank you! No one has ever given me such perfect gift! Thank you!” The gentle brush of the boy’s lips against his cheek had Voldemort pulling back even as he felt a strange urge to pull him closer. 

“There will be several meetings this week. I expect you to attend them all.” Voldemort told him stiffly. Harry smiled at him again. 

“As My Lord wishes.”


	5. Hai Bisogno Di Toccare

Adult Content FYI

"May I speak candidly My Lord?" Voldemort knew without even looking up that he was speaking to Marvolo. He had already dismissed the other Death Eater's so that only the two of them remained and Marvolo generally tended to be more lucid than Harry.

In the months since Voldemort had gifted him with his doll Merope, Harry had once again become the Dark Lord's constant companion. Often during meetings Harry would sit at his feet toying with Merope's hair or changing her clothes. The Death Eaters had grown accustomed to his odd behavior and no longer stared. Helped along no doubt by the liberal use of torture to remind them where their attention belonged. Once the meetings ended however it was not unusual for the Dark Lord to ask the boy's thoughts.

"You may," he granted curious as to what Marvolo had on his mind.

"Harry believes, and I agree with him that there is a flaw in your plans." Marvolo began delicately.

"If Harry has a concern why does he not raise it himself?" Voldemort asked, merely for the pleasure of watching Marvolo flush in anger. It was still ceaselessly frustrating for him that he and Harry had separate consciousnesses.

"We felt-" Marvolo began with grit teeth "That I might handle it with more delicacy."

"Indeed?" If Voldemort had still possessed eyebrows he would have raised one. "Enlighten me then."

"If we truly wish to erase the muggle taint from this earth I do not believe it can be achieved through a direct attack. There are simply too many muggles and while in Europe purebloods and half-bloods do outnumber the muggleborns. The same cannot be said for the Americas, there are far more mudbloods and only a small contingent of pure wizards and witches. China is split almost down the middle. We may be able to take Britain with brute force but when we start moving for the rest of Europe the Americans are sure to intervene.

Not to mention if we continue as we have been eventually the muggles will notice. They may not have magic but they are inventive. There's no telling what they may do especially if they have time to plan while we battle it out with the foreign wizarding communities." the boy paused and Voldemort noted that at some point as he spoke his eyes had faded back to green.

"I am not unaware of these issues Harry, for now we must focus on taking Britain. Once we have our stronghold, there will be time for further planning." Voldemort told him, feeling pleased to discover Harry had given this so much thought as well as Marvolo. Harry nodded his understanding before sucking his lip thoughtfully in his mouth and chewing it for a moment. Raising his eyes Harry had a hopeful look.

"But what if we could do both at the same time wouldn't that be better?" Voldemort indulged in a small smile.

"Certainly it would be but how do you propose to wipe out the muggles?" Harry's eyes were suddenly so bright and malicious they seemed to glow as he whispered a single word in reply.

"Pestilence"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voldemort planned a raid toward the end of November and for the first time since school started he informed Snape. Generally speaking Snape was not informed of raids in advance but this time the Dark Lord wanted The Order there. He knew they must be getting rather desperate by now to locate Harry Potter. Voldemort was under no illusion about whether or not Snape had informed Dumbledore of the boy's defection but he also knew that would not be enough to stop The Order from trying to reclaim him.

Snape still had no idea why the boy had defected. No doubt Dumbledore and the rest thought it some type of curse that could be reversed. For that reason he told Snape that Harry Potter would be in attendance while simultaneously ordering the boy to remain at the manor for the duration of the raid. Harry hadn't been happy but would never disobey a direct order. To keep him entertained Voldemort had encouraged his former classmate Rodolphus Lestrange Sr. to bring his youngest son to the manor. Rycklon Lestrange was only three years older than Harry himself, he was a half brother to the elder Lestrange brothers.

After Voldemort's fall and the subsequent imprisonment of his two sons, Lestrange Sr. had removed himself, along with his young son and wife to France. There they had lived comfortably as Rodolphus continued his relentless search for his master. He had been investigating Albania at the time of Voldemort's second rise and one of the few inner circle members to be spared punishment. His son had attended Beauxbatons and was very close to receiving his Potion's Mastery. Once he did Voldemort would finally be able to dispose of Snape by more permanent means. Harry had spent some time with him before due to his association with Bellatrix and seemed to like him well enough.

The raid had gone perfectly. The Order had already been waiting for them but their belief that Potter was among the Death Eaters made them weak. They were using only non fatal spells and couldn't remain focussed on the battle as they frantically scouted the town for the Boy-Who-Lived. They lost nearly ten members before finally calling a retreat and Voldemort was able to capture their pet wolf for questioning. All of this in less than half the time he had planned for.

Voldemort was feeling positively triumphant as he made his way to Harry's room to tell him the news. Voldemort wondered how he would react to learning of the werewolf's capture, in all the months since Harry's defection he had never mentioned the Order or any of his former associates. In truth Voldemort wondered if the boy even remembered them, perhaps they had to be erased completely to make way for the beliefs Marvolo had given him. Voldemort wasn't sure what he would do if that were the case, perhaps allow Harry to question the wolf himself. It would certainly add a new dimension to the man's agony.

Voldemort pushed the door open so forcefully it slammed into the wall startling both occupants of the room. It took him a moment to process the scene, Harry sat on the small sitting room sofa his white shirt had several buttons undone and was hanging open. His pink lips were swollen and his eyes were bright. Standing a few feet away, was Rycklon Lestrange looking equally dishevelled and eyeing the Dark Lord with apprehension.

"Forgive me My Lord, you have returned much sooner than expected." Rycklon began as he attempted to straighten his robes.

Voldemort had been angry when he caught Harry with the Malfoy boy but it did not compare to the rage he felt now. The crucio he sent toward the man had enough force to send him straight into the wall on the other side of the room. Voldemort only released to curse because he needed his wand to kill the little whore who held a fraction of his soul. This betrayal would be punished beyond what any other had suffered. Harry let out a moan, at first Voldemort assumed it was in fear but the one that followed was needy and pained. Voldemort looked at the boy more closely, he looked just as he had when he entered the room. He hadn't responded at all to Voldemort's entry and subsequent torture of his paramore.  
Was this some new maddness? The boy moaned again, his eyes glazed as he shifted about uncomfortably. He was noticeably aroused but seemingly detached from his surroundings. Voldemort couldn't help but be affected by the display but ignored his own arousal in favor of taking in his surroundings. There was a tea service sitting on the table near the sofa, along with a scroll which had been discarded next to it. His eyes shifted back to Rycklon and narrowed dangerously.

"What did you give him?" Voldemort hissed.

"Hai Bisogno Di Toccare." The fool stumbled over his words, body still shaking from the after affects of Cruciatus. Voldemort was going to hurt him there was no doubt about that but for now he simply didn't have the time, with a flick of his wand Voldemort banished Rycklon to the dungeon before turning to Harry.

He had to be in agony by now. Hai Bisogno Di Toccare was one of the most insidious lust potions ever invented. It left the victim painfully aroused but unable to find release by their own means, someone else had to give it to them. As if this were not cruel enough there was no waiting it out either, the only way to purge the potion from his system was through sexual release. If no release was offered permanent damage would be done to the reproductive organs, in some rare cases where a particularly powerful dosage was used the victim had even died.

Voldemort didn't know how much the boy had been dosed with but judging by the way he was writhing and pulling at his clothes it hadn't been a small amount. Voldemort bent low to lift the boy into his arms, if he was doing this it would not be on a sofa. As soon as Voldemort's fingers met the boy's heated skin Harry let out a needy whimper arching his back as his orgasm crashed over him. Voldemort was mesmerized by the way the boy's face went slack with pleasure his perfect lips parted invitingly as his lashes fluttered closed.

The Dark Lord carried the boy into his bedroom and laid him gently on the bed. Already Harry was shifting with discomfort, the relief of his orgasm fading as the potion in his system reasserted itself. Harry's eyes were open now and fixed on him with absolute focus and for the first time since his rebirth Voldemort felt almost nervous about his appearance. How must he look to this boy? After settling Harry Voldemort stood to remove his outer robe, only to be stopped as Harry's hot hand reached out to grasp his own.

"My Lord, Please." Harry begged in parseltongue, his eyes bright with need. Voldemort sat on the bed beside him using his hand to brush the sweaty hair from the boy's brow.

"Shh Harry, I will make it better." Voldemort promised with a softness he would deny possessing. The boy would not remember his moment of weakness, he wouldn't remember anything at all in fact. The potion also had the handy effect of blurring the victims memory, causing them to lose memories of even a full hour before they were dosed. If Voldemort had not come upon him Rycklon would likely have gotten away with it.

It was anger at this thought, Voldemort assured himself, which caused his hands to shake as he reached down to remove Harry's shirt. He had seen the boy without his shirt once before, on the night Harry came to him, he'd been shirtless and covered in blood. Now there was no blood to hide his view of rosy pink nipples or pale skin stretched across Harry's lithe frame. Voldemort used his fingers to trace along the boy's rib cage pulling whimpers and moans from the nymph beneath him. He was able to bring Harry to orgasm again simply through those gentle touches before sliding Harry's slacks down over his thin hips and finally exposing him entirely to Voldemort's appreciative eyes.

Voldemort knew that Harry was not perfect but in that moment Voldemort would have sworn that he was. Harry's skin was pale covered in a light smattering of freckles, his erection was standing proud once more leaking precum heavily. Voldemort wanted him as he had never wanted anyone or thing before. He wanted to slide into Harry's slim body, into the burning heat of him until Voldemort had felt the very center of him. For now he satisfied himself by running his hand over Harry's erection enjoying the moan of pleasure he received as an award. Harry spread his legs wantonly putting all he had on display for the taking.

In the face of this all of Voldemort's objections to taking the boy as his lover seemed weak and foolish. What did it matter to him if Harry was known as his consort? Why shouldn't he be elevated above the rest? Harry was his horcrux, his masterpiece, his obsession. Harry Potter belonged to him, he always had why not take all of him? As if reading his mind the boy began to speak once more in broken needy hissed words.

"Please, Tom -need more-so empty. Please!"

Normally the use of his muggle name would have infuriated him but now it only inflamed him further. Voldemort's hand dropped down to adjust the now painful erection that strained against the seam of his trousers. He could take the boy now, Harry was literally begging for it. Harry Potter would be his consort, elevated above all others and marked so that no man would dare try something like this again. The thought had Voldemort summoning lubricant so that he could reach down and brush the pads of his fingers against Harry's flexing eager hole. Harry had spread himself wide, hissing a litany of curses and pleas as he tried desperately to move his hips and force Voldemort's teasing finger to penetrate him.

Voldemort's cock was like steel, he was certain he'd never felt this aroused before. Pressing a single finger into Harry's heat pulled a low moan from Voldemort's throat. Harry was so tight, a virgin Voldemort reminded himself hazily. Despite his inexperience Harry was bucking against the intruding finger trying to force it deeper, making needy encouraging noises. Voldemort could take him now, the boy wouldn't curse him for the lack of preparation he was sure. Indeed the boy would not even remember.

The thought was like a splash of cold water to Voldemort. His arousal was just as strong but with it came a flare of blessed anger which drove the lustful haze from his mind. When he took the boy, and there was no doubt now that he would take him. When he took him Harry would know. Harry Potter would be aware for every exquisite moment and when the Dark Lord was done with him Harry would never forget that he belonged completely to Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord was no weak willed fool like Rycklon Lestrange, he had no need of potions to reduce Harry to a mess of sensations and lust.

Harry Potter would beg for him. He would plead and moan, even more prettily than he did now. He would do so without the use of potions, Voldemort had no need of those. The Dark Lord could give pleasure with as much care as he so enjoyed giving pain and Harry Potter would feel pleasure beyond any he had before. Voldemort comforted himself with these thoughts as he clamped down on his self control. He would wait, after all he had waited fourteen years to kill Harry Potter, he could certainly wait a day to bed him.

It was nearly morning when Harry finally arched his back for a final orgasm. This time rather than his seed came a dribble of pulsing purple liquid which Voldemort quickly banished. He cast a gentle cleansing spell at the boy before covering his body with a blanket and leaving him to rest. In his own room, underneath the pounding heat of his shower Voldemort remembered Harry's pink lips and the way his finger had felt clenched and surrounded by Harry's virgin hole as he allowed himself the relief of his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry slept all through the following day and night. Voldemort visited his room once or twice more to check on his recovery. He also took the boy a potion that would combat the dehydration that was another dangerous effect of the lust potion. To distract himself from his own suddenly raging libido he questioned werewolf extensively under Veritaserum but held off on killing him. What he learned was unsettling, Dumbledore was aware of his Horcruxes.

The wolf hadn't known that of course but Voldemort recognized the description of Dumbledore's new ring and the description of his injured hand. Somehow the old fool had managed to track down his grandfather's ring. This was concerning but not terribly so, with Harry bound to his horcrux the boy could not die until Voldemort himself did. Just as Voldemort would be safe as long as Harry was bound to his horcrux. The other's had become redundant but they still belonged to the Dark Lord. He would retrieve them, but not now he would wait until the old fool was cooling in the ground.

Lupin had given him another piece of useful information, apparently with Harry absent Dumbledore had taken to training the boy's two closest friends. The wolf had no idea what that training involved but assumed that Dumbledore was doing so with the assumption that if anyone could sway Harry back to their side it would be his closest friends. Voldemort was inclined to think this was part of it but he thought it far more likely Dumbledore was telling the children all about Voldemort's horcruxes. Preparing them to do what he knew the adults would balk at, it was only common sense that if Harry could not be returned to them, he would have to be killed.

Voldemort would not allow that to happen. Harry belonged to him and he would protect him against any who attempted to harm him. This thought was enough to prompt the Dark Lord to send another curse toward the snivelling piece of filth that currently cowered before him. He held the crucio for several long minutes before lifting it to look around the elder Lestrange and his other children. Rycklon followed his gaze and reached out a shaking hand toward Rodolphus Sr.

"P-please Father." The Death Eater stepped back and diverted his eyes from the shaking man on the ground.

"You do not speak for your son?" Voldemort questioned, voice soft but unmistakably dangerous.

"He is no son of mine My Lord. It is his own disobedience that has brought him to this." Lestrange Sr. spoke stiffly his eyes never wandering from Voldemort's own.

"Indeed, in what way?" Voldemort questioned.

"You may not be aware my Lord, but Rycklon was among those chosen to attend the Tri-Wizard Tournament with Beauxbatons. He was not chosen to compete but while he was there he became-infatuated with Harry Potter. With your return I made it clear to my son that any thoughts he had of the Boy-Who-Lived should be checked. Despite his assurances when Rycklon learned of the boy's defection he requested that I attempt to betroth Harry Potter to him."

"And did you speak with the boy in order to make such a contract?" Voldemort demanded through narrowed eyes. Harry was still unconscious but if Voldemort learned he had kept such a thing from him the boy would be punished.

"I did not. I forbade my son from any further pursuit of Harry Potter."

"Indeed? Did you believe the boy unworthy of your son's hand?" Voldemort asked dangerously red eyes glinting with promised pain at any slight toward his prize.

"No My Lord, it was clear the boy was a favorite of yours. I believed that if you wished him betrothed you would arrange it yourself." Lestrange chose his words slowly and carefully, never quite meeting the Dark Lord's eyes.

"I have known you for many years Rodolphus. Do not think you can decieve me. What was your true reason?" The man seemed to brace himself before speaking, making Voldemort wonder what his objection could possibly have been.

"Forgive me My Lord but as you say I have been in your service for many years. When we were younger men, I was never confused as some of our classmates were by your refusal to take a lover. It was clear to me that you could never share your power or strength with someone who was less than your equal. I had believed that such a person would never exist even when people spoke of the Potter boy as your equal and chosen destroyer I had believed them the desperate ramblings of the hopeless masses.

Then the boy defected-"

"So you believe him my equal?" Voldemort demanded cutting Lestrange off. For a moment the wizard hesitated but finally he spoke.

"My Lord I believe him your reward. If there was any magic that could create a perfect companion I would believe you had created the boy yourself. I believe fate has destined him for you. " Lestrange confessed in an awed whisper. Voldemort stared at Lestrange Sr. for a long moment unsure how he felt about such a thing being spoke aloud even if it was only before Lestrange's two sons.

"Rycklon's life is forfeit but his death belongs to Harry Potter. You are dismissed."


	6. An Explanation

Voldemort spent a good deal of the morning considering the best way to explain what had happened to Harry. It wasn’t that Voldemort was concerned about the boy’s reaction, he simply knew that Harry was unpredictable. As time had passed he and Marvolo’s personalities had continued to bleed together. Voldemort had spent increasingly less time dealing with Marvolo than in the beginning. Harry had begun to stabilize as well, he still spent time playing with Merope (Harry had forgone the other dolls, not that Voldemort had noticed or cared) but when he spoke it was with clarity. Of course half of what he said was mad, and then there was Pestilence Voldemort was awed when Harry spoke of it. He didn’t believe it was possible but the vision of it was inspiring. 

This business was different though, Voldemort knew how Marvolo would respond but Harry was a different matter. Ultimately he decided to go with blunt facts. He summoned Severus and then Harry into his private study. Harry stepped in quietly but didn’t meet Voldemort’s eyes, instead keeping his head bowed. Voldemort watched him in concern, did the boy remember? Was he angry? Voldemort didn’t care of course, Harry belonged to him he could be angry, it would change nothing. Severus was looking at Harry with an intensity that concerned Voldemort somewhat, he directed his wand at him under the his desk.

“Severus please explain, in detail the effects of and treatment for the potion Hai Bisogno Di Toccare.” Voldemort ordered calmly. For a moment Snape’s normally stoic face showed surprise but he buried it quickly. 

“Hai Bisogno Di Toccare is an extremely powerful lust potion. It induces an intense feeling of arousal as well as hypersensitivity. The combination of neem oil and fairy wings induces a sense of delirium along with acute memory loss. Victims often have no memory of their time under the potion and depending on the strength of their dosage they may lose memory of the several hours before ingesting the potion as well. 

It is different from most other lust potions because the a victim is not able to achieve orgasm through self pleasure. Furthermore the addition of Dragon’s blood means the potion does not wear off rather the effects can only be ended by removal of the potion through orgasm. There is an antidote but it takes a week to brew. Suffering so long under the effects of the potion can cause sterilization or permanent dysfunction. The more practical treatment is to simply induce orgasm for the patient until the potion has run it’s course.” Severus paused glancing between the Dark Lord and the boy, who looked politely interested. 

“Thank you Severus, you are dismissed.” Severus seemed to hesitate for a moment drawing Voldemort’s eyes to him, a slight twitch of his hand gave the spy away before he acted. Severus lunged toward Harry had outstretched.

“Avada Kedavra” Harry jumped back but Severus still nearly nearly had him, his hand missing Harry’s by mere centimeters as he collapsed dead on the ground. Harry blinked down at corpse before looking wide eyed at Voldemort.

“You killed Snape.” 

Voldemort didn’t respond instead moving to the body and opening Snape’s hand. A shiny black button was clenched in his palm. Harry reached out as if to take it but Voldemort caught his wrist, wrapping his long pale fingers around the pulsepoint. 

“Don’t touch it.” he ordered casting an identifying spell on the button causing it to glow blue. “A Port-key, no doubt it would have had you both at Hogwarts by now.” 

“Huh” The boy responded “Shall we send him back or feed him to Nagini and let them wonder?”

“Nagini will handle him. We have other matters to discuss.” Voldemort told Harry using the grip he still had on his wrist to pull him away from Snape as he moved back to his desk. Voldemort summoned Nagini through his Horcrux before turning his attention back to Harry who was waiting patiently beside him. 

“The night before last I returned unexpectedly from our raid. I discovered that Rycklon Lestrange had dosed you with Hai Bisogno Di Toccare, apparently he has been infatuated with you for quite some time.” Voldemort paused watching Harry for a reaction. He was frowning thoughtfully. 

“He had made some- overtures but I had informed him that I intended to remain untouched. He believed that I was betrothed, but insisted he was a better match than any other a half-blood such as myself could possibly aspire to.” 

“Hmm well if you had been betrothed and I had not interrupted Rycklon’s actions would have voided the contract. The point is moot however because I did interrupt, upon discovering your state I banished Rycklon to the dungeons and saw to your treatment.” Voldemort informed him. Harry suddenly looked a bit green. 

“N-not Snape?” The boy asked sounding disgusted. Voldemort rolled his eyes. 

“Certainly not. I saw to your treatment personally.” The boy’s face flushed a vibrant pink and his lips formed a little ‘o’ of surprise. 

“Surely you did not think I would allow someone else to touch you in such a way?” Voldemort’s eyes flashed at the very thought of someone else touching Harry. Harry belonged to him and only him. 

“No, My Lord.” Harry responded, finally peeking up to look at Voldemort a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

Voldemort still had trouble responding to gratitude from the boy. It was strange because he expected gratitude from his other followers but from Harry it was always so much more sincere. The boy’s genuine gratitude and seeming fondness for him set Voldemort continually off balance. 

“Yes-Well you are mine. Rycklon Lestrange belongs to you however, dispose of him as you see fit.”


	7. The Binding

Voldemort decided to hold a full meeting to dispose of the werewolf. It had been quite some time since he’d called all his followers together. There were still many who had no idea of Harry Potter’s defection and given Voldemort’s intentions toward the boy he felt it was high time to change that. The meeting was held in Malfoy Manor’s main ballroom, Voldemort had conjured a raised dais where he and Harry could look out at the Death Eaters.

Voldemort hadn’t told the boy who had been captured only that he was a member of the Order. Voldemort remained seated as the werewolf was dragged in but he kept his eyes on Harry. The boy stood on his left hand, looking out curiously at the mass of assembled Death Eaters. Unlike Voldemort’s other followers, Harry had never been given a mask, on raids he wore a traditional robe but had never covered his face. Voldemort knew the moment the wolf was brought in by the change in Harry. His back straightened, his face blanked and his green eyes went a vibrant red. 

“Harry!” The broken shout didn’t seem to faze Marvolo at all. Harry’s face was utterly calm and collected. Voldemort allowed his eyes to take in the wolf. Lupin still wore the tattered bloody garment he’d been captured in. His face was smeared with filth from his cell and while it had only been a few days his face had already taken on a lean look from lack of food. With a flick of his wand Voldemort levitated the wolf up to the dais, making him clearly visible to the Death Eater’s surrounding them. 

As soon as he landed Lupin struggled to his feet reaching out toward where Harry still stood back straight and eyes vibrant red. Voldemort stepped between them placing a possessive hand on the boy’s shoulder. Ignoring the wolf Voldemort looked down at the boy. 

“I want Harry for this, not you Marvolo.” Voldemort ordered in parseltongue. For a moment it looked like Marvolo might disobey but then his eyes faded to green and his shoulders relaxed slightly. Harry didn’t look at the werewolf who stood only feet from him instead he looked up at Voldemort with wide eyes. 

“As My Lord wishes.” the boy’s voice was soft and his eyes were bright. Voldemort squeezed his shoulder before turning back to the wolf. 

“Harry! What has he done to you?” The werewolf moved again as if planning to charge them both but Voldemort paralyzed and silenced him with a wave of his wand. 

“Remus Lupin you stand before this assembly accused of actions against the good of the Wizarding World. You have confessed under Veritaserum to aiding the Order Of The Phoenix. You have turned your back on your Alpha werewolf and have instead chosen to follow the fool Albus Dumbledore. Do you deny these charges?” Voldemort did not raise his voice nor did he enhance it magically but still it carried to every corner of the hall. He released the silencing charm on the wolf but kept him paralyzed. 

“I do not. You are a monster! What have you done to him?” The werewolf was still staring desperately at Harry Potter as if hoping for some sign of the boy he had known. Voldemort silenced him again. He turned to Harry. 

“I had not realized you and the werewolf were so close Harry.” For a moment Harry’s eyes wandered to the wolf before quickly snapping back to the Dark Lord. 

“Remus was always very kind to me. He taught me the Patronus charm when I was a child and held me when I lost my Godfather. Remus was very close to my parents, he has been like family.” The boy’s voice was soft. 

“Indeed and what punishment do you recommend for this man who has been like family?” Voldemort asked wondering if the boy would use this as an opening to beg for mercy. Harry looked startled by the question but didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“His is your enemy My Lord. He must pay with his life.” There was an outcry in the hall at this. Clearly Voldemort was not the only one who had expected the boy to plead for mercy. 

“Silence!” The Dark Lord ordered sharply as he glared down at his followers. “Indeed and if I asked you to deliver this punishment?”

“Then I shall do as My Lord commands, in this as in all things.” The boy responded his voice monotone as he raised his wand. 

“I wish to see him suffer first Harry.” Voldemort informed the boy. Harry kept his eyes on the Dark Lord even as he cast the crucio, the werewolf’s screams filled the hall but Harry never broke eye contact with Voldemort, his eyes remaining a vibrant green. 

“Enough. Is it so easy for you Harry? To turn your back on those you had once called family.” Voldemort asked him. The boy responded with a soft smile and a shake of his head.

“Not easy My Lord, never that. I will grieve for Remus but I have known for some time that this day must come. You are my Lord and with your rise the world will be cleansed. The Order stands in your way and so they must be destroyed. I have made my peace and am loyal only to you, My Lord.” The warm rush of pleasure he felt at these words was overwhelming, the emotion was so foreign Voldemort didn’t recognize it at first. Happiness, the boy had made him happy. Reaching out Voldemort cupped the boy’s cheek in his hand and pulled him closer. 

“And would it please you if I spared him?” There was an audible intake of breath in the hall that seemed to match the boy’s own startled expression. 

“Spared him My Lord?” 

“As a gift.” Voldemort told him brushing his thumb against Harry’s smooth skin 

“It is tradition is it not Lucius?” Voldemort glanced around, eyes landing on the elder Malfoy where he stood just in front of dais. 

“Tradition My Lord?” Lucius was hesitant, obviously not sure what the Dark Lord was speaking of but frightened to contradict him. 

“To give your intended a gift on the eve of your binding.” The sounds that erupted in the hall at this statement were nearly enough to smother Harry’s own startled gasp. Voldemort ignored the others keeping his eyes on his future consort. 

“Your intended?!” Lucius exclaimed in shock. At last Voldemort pulled his eyes from Harry.

“Tribulatio magna.” The spell sent not only Lucius but several dozen of those around him to the ground in agony. Normally this curse was not as painful as Cruciatus but Voldemort put enough force behind it to make his feelings on the matter clear.

“Does anyone here have an objection?” Voldemort demanded coldly as his red eyes swept the hall. Only the screams of those still being punished broke the silence that had swept over the hall. Voldemort released the curse before turning back to Harry Potter. The boy looked stunned before his face broke into a beatific smile. He fell to his knees taking The Dark Lord’s hand and pressing a warm kiss to his palm. 

“I have no words My Lord, you have honored me beyond my wildest imaginings.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malfoy Manor was equipped with a traditional chamber for the completion of wedding ceremonies. Lucius offered it to them of course and after the meeting ended Voldemort escorted Harry there in silence. The chamber doors were carved elaborately with a variety of fertility symbols in accordance with pureblood tradition. Voldemort allowed himself a moment of thankfulness that his Horcrux had not ended up in a woman, taking a consort was one thing but fathering an heir was another. Voldemort knew enough history to know the danger of an heir, especially when one planned to live forever. 

The doors opened into a large bathing room, dominated by a large bath already filled with steaming water. The smell of sage, rosemary and peppermint mingled together as they stepped into the steamy room. Voldemort pulled the doors closed behind them before casting several powerful privacy wards on the room. He didn’t expect any of his followers to be so foolish as to interrupt them but it wasn’t worth the risk. Harry stood at the edge of the tub, still fully dressed and looking anxious. Voldemort stepped up to him, brushing his dark hair aside before pressing his lips to Harry’s scar. The boy shivered. 

“Are you frightened?” Voldemort couldn’t resist asking, even as his fingers trailed down the boys pristine white throat to toy with the buttons on his collar. Harry blushed though whether it was from the touch or the question Voldemort couldn’t be certain. 

“No.” Harry’s voice shook in a way that belied his words, but his face was set with determination. “May I-” the boy hesitated but lifted his hands as if to undo Voldemort’s robes. 

“You may.” The Dark Lord granted as he began to remove the boy’s shirt, enjoying the way Harry shivered whenever his fingers brushed his bared skin. Voldemort was so focussed on undressing the boy, he was taken completely off guard when his own robe slid from his shoulders. The room was warm, the air heavy on his suddenly exposed torso but that didn’t lessen the burning heat of Harry’s fingers as his hands traced curiously over Voldemort’s abdomen. 

The feel of Harry’s hands on him was enough to make Voldemort hasten his actions. The cleansing bath was an important part of any Pureblood binding ceremony. Technically Harry had completed it several months ago when he bathed in the blood of his relatives but Voldemort did not want to risk anything interfering with their binding. That meant he had to wait to take the boy, but with the arousal rushing in his ears Voldemort knew he wouldn’t be able to wait long. He’d have time for slower explorations later. 

Voldemort moved more quickly as pushed the boy’s shirt off his shoulders before letting his hands drop to the fastening of his slacks. It occurred to him that Harry was still wearing Draco Malfoy’s cast offs, tomorrow he would have a tailor brought to create Harry a wardrobe more worthy of his station. For some reason the boy’s pants seemed needlessly complicated and after a brief fruitless struggle Voldemort vanished not only Harry’s but his own remaining clothes as well, leaving the boy naked before him. He stepped back to take him in.

Harry was lean, his limbs seemed long even though in truth he was rather small. His head only came up to Voldemort’s chest and his skin was creamy white all over. Harry’s eyes were bright and green as death, the red that lined his pupils almost invisible at the moment. Despite his statement that he was not afraid, Harry’s pink lower lip was pulled into his mouth his white teeth clearly visible where he chewed it anxiously. Voldemort used his thumb to soothe the abused area as he took Harry’s face in his hands. 

“You are beautiful.” The words left him of their own accord and brought an even brighter flush to Harry’s cheeks. “How unfortunate for you, to find yourself bound to a monster such as myself.” 

Voldemort did not regret what he had become. He had cast aside the face his muggle father had bestowed on him without hesitation. There had been other rituals he could have used to regain his body as it was before his destruction, even before his use of magic had begun to shift his features. Voldemort had not wanted to keep Tom Riddle’s face but he had never anticipated taking a consort at all. Certainly not one as young or as lovely Harry had turned out to be. To his surprise however the boy simply shook his head.

“Oh no My Lord, not a monster. You are magnificent!” The boy breathed the words worshipfully and Voldemort could find no artifice in his face. Harry Potter truly was mad Voldemort thought to himself even as he abandoned any pretense and pulled the boy against him. Their lips met, Harry’s mouth giving beneath the force of his own not quite passive as Harry tried to kiss him back with equal fire. 

 

Their bodies melded together, the steam of the room clinging to them as their skin slid back and forth. Since his resurrection Voldemort was nearly always cold with a resting body temperature of just below eighty degrees but now he felt as if he were on fire. Everywhere Harry’s skin touched his was like a brand on his skin. Harry’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck to pull him closer, his erection prominent and pressing against Voldemort’s thigh. Voldemort kissed him until his throat burned with the need for oxygen and only the realization that Harry must desperately need to breath as well prompted him to pull away at last. 

For a moment they stood arms still entangled, their panting breaths echoing off the polished marble walls of the bathing room. Then suddenly the boy was gone. For a brief moment the Dark Lord was confused, at least until something hot and wet brushed against his already aching erection. Looking down, he found the boy on his knees before him, Harry’s eyes were wide and so dilated with lust the green and red were barely discernable. Once Harry’s eyes met Voldemort’s his pink tongue flicked out again brushing the leaking head of Voldemort’s member and scooping up the small amount of fluid which had gathered there. Voldemort groaned and the boy sent him a bright smile before sliding his lips around his erection and sucking hard. 

Voldemort moaned his hips bucking forward of their own accord, forcing his erection down Harry’s throat and making the boy cough and gag. Reaching down he pulled the boy back up to his feet. 

“Sorry.” Harry told him, eyes downcast. 

“Hush.” Voldemort told him tilting his face up to kiss Harry again. “There will be time for more of that later. We must bathe or we will be finished before the binding has even begun.” 

Harry blushed again and Voldemort wondered what it would take to keep the boy permanently that charming shade of pink. Voldemort determined he would do whatever he could to continue seeing him like that. Taking Harry’s hand he led him down the marble steps and into the large bath. The water was hot but not burning as Voldemort escorted Harry to one side of the bath. Seating himself on the low shelf which lined the tub he pulled Harry into his lap settling him firmly on top of his aching erection and forcing himself not to thrust up against the heat of Harry’s body. 

There was no need for soap, a potion had been added to the water to make it naturally cleansing. That same potion had the added effect of making the water slicker than it would naturally be, a factor Voldemort fully intended to take advantage of in the near future. Voldemort used his hands to scoop up water and pour it over Harry’s shoulders, using his mouth to taste the water on Harry’s skin after. Harry shuddered against him, rubbing his body instinctively against Voldemort’s erection and eliciting a moan from the Dark Lord. Voldemort took care to rinse every bit of Harry with the warm water. Tracing his hands along the contours of his chest, before moving up his neck and to his face. 

Once Harry was completely rinsed Voldemort reached for his hips twisting the boy to face him. Harry understood without being told and moved his legs to straddle Voldemort’s hips, his penis was rock hard and pressed against Voldemort’s stomach with unspoken urgency. 

“Now you must wash me Harry,” Voldemort told him in a low voice, strained with need. Harry understood and immediately began to use his hands to pour the water over Voldemort’s exposed skin. As Harry did this Voldemort allowed his fingers to trace down the boys spine, searching out sensitive areas based on the noises Harry couldn’t seem to stop spilling from his lips. Every now and then Harry’s hips would jerk forward causing the boy to moan at the friction. 

Voldemort’s fingers found their way to Harry’s anus, now easily accessible and exposed. Voldemort brushed his finger against the puckered flesh teasingly, causing Harry’s hips to jerk forward needily. Voldemort could not withhold a smile at Harry’s responsiveness as he gentled circled the sensitive flesh. Harry seemed to have forgotten his task, his breathing was rough and he seemed to shudder and moan with every touch. Voldemort put a bit of pressure on his entrance not enough to breach him but just to suggest it. Harry let out a strangled sob.

“Please!” The sound of parseltongue broken and needy, hissed directly into his ear nearly undid him. He obliged at once of course, sliding his slick finger past the tight ring of muscle and into Harry’s boy. He held it there letting Harry adjust to the intrusion before slowly withdrawing his finger nearly all the way and plunging it back in. Every thrust forward had Harry arching and pushing back. It wasn’t long until Voldemort was able to slip another finger inside. Harry tensed but Voldemort continued to twist his fingers, stretching his body more quickly as his desperation mounted. 

“You have to finish washing me.” Voldemort reminded the boy desperately. Harry made a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan as he shifted to scoop up more water. The move drove Voldemort’s fingers even deeper into his body and against Harry’s prostate. The water spilled from Harry’s hands as he desperate thrust his hips backward to recreate the sensation. Harry’s hand shook as he brushed them down Voldemort’s scalp and then over his face brushing, down between his eyes and over his lips. Finally the boy had finished, Voldemort could feel the water cool against his exposed skin and resolved not to wait another moment. 

Pulling his fingers free of Harry’s body Voldemort lifted his hips just enough to position his aching erection at the boy’s clenching hole. Voldemort gripped Harry’s hips holding him in place and pulling him down onto his cock. Harry stiffened, his face forming into a look that was distinctly not pleasure. Voldemort lifted one hand from the boy’s hip and grabbed the back of his head. Pulling him closer, Voldemort ravaged Harry’s mouth, desperate to distract them both, Harry from the pain of penetration and himself from the overwhelming pleasure of it. 

Harry’s body was impossibly tight. So tight it was almost painful to push his erection inside and the heat! Oh god it was like thrusting into an oven, inch by torturous inch. Harry whined against him and Voldemort pulled back taking in the boy’s watering eyes. 

“Is it too much?” Voldemort asked, unable to examine the sudden concern he felt “I can stop if you need me too.” 

Harry shook his head. 

“No-Never stop. Make me yours.” It was too much! Voldemort’s control snapped thrusting his hips upwards he was completely inside Harry with one stroke. Harry screamed but Voldemort’s lips were already there to muffle the sound as he pulled out and pushed in again. Harry’s hands were gripping his shoulders so tightly he was sure he would have cuts there should he remember to check later but The Dark Lord didn’t care. 

In this moment there was nothing but Harry Potter. Nothing but his heat clenched so tightly around Voldemort’s member. Nothing but the smell of his skin and the taste of his lips. Nothing but those glorious sounds which had stopped being pained and begun to be desperate. Nothing but Harry’s erection which despite his pain had never wavered and with every thrust it scraped against Voldemort’s abdomen, giving proof of how affected Harry was by this. 

“Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh” Harry’s eyes met his and Voldemort held the gaze even as noises seemed to spill from Harry’s lips of their own accord. At some point Harry had begun to work with him and with every downward thrust to Harry’s prostate his eyes fluttered before opening again to look in the Dark Lord’s eyes. The devotion Voldemort saw there was as intoxicating as the heat around his cock. Around them the water was splashing with wet slaps onto the floor but Voldemort ignored it. He wouldn’t last long, how could he when the pleasure was more intense than any encounter Voldemort had ever had?

Dropping his hand from the back of Harry’s neck and onto his erection, Voldemort gave it a single rough pull and sent the boy tumbling over the edge. 

“Tom!” the boy cried out and the sound of his name, that name, that no one else ever spoke was too much. Thrusting up a final desperate time, his hands so tight on Harry’s hips that they were sure to bruise Voldemort came, muffling his own scream against Harry’s pristine shoulder.   
Coming back to himself Voldemort found Harry limp against his chest. With an amused smirk he splashed a bit of water between them to rinse off any evidence of their release before lifting Harry into his arms and standing. There was a stack of towels waiting near the door to the bed chamber but Voldemort decided to forgo them in favor of a drying charm. Harry looked too peaceful to bother waking him when it could be avoided. 

The Malfoy wedding chamber was as garish and opulent as the Dark Lord had expected it to be but he wasted no time examining it. Instead he made his way to the large bed that dominated the room and laid his nude consort against the pillows. Harry’s skin looked especially pale against the midnight blue sheets which decorated the bed. His thick black eyelashes looked like smudges of soot against his pristine skin and even in sleep his lips were pulled into a slight smile. The binding mark had already appeared, it had probably appeared at the moment of penetration but Voldemort had not noticed it then. 

Looking at the twisting snake that now decorated the boy’s throat filled him with a rush of possessive pleasure. It was done, Harry was his completely. No one, no matter how foolish or suicidal would challenge his claim now. The fact that he would carry a similar mark hardly mattered, Harry belonged to him now. Belonging to Harry in return seemed like an easy price for such a prize. Voldemort simply admired Harry for quite some time before boy shifted, his lips forming a slight frown. Green eyes fluttered open and Harry reached out a hand. 

“My Lord?” the boy questioned sleepily. Voldemort took the offered hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before allowing himself to be pulled into the bed.


End file.
